


The prowling beast

by ButtercupsMagician



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dalish Lore, F/M, The warden is scary, Warden Commander Mahariel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtercupsMagician/pseuds/ButtercupsMagician
Summary: Warden Commander Mahariel is close to a living legend years after she defeated the Archdemon. After she left Amaranthine many speak of her in hushed tones, and when she turns up in skyhold, there is clearly something off about her.A series of impressions from the characters of Inquisition upon meeting the Warden, including the scene in the fade.
Relationships: Background Hawke/Fenris - Relationship
Kudos: 8





	The prowling beast

There has always been a strange air around the warden commander, Varric thinks. He has met her once in Kirkwall and he just couldn't shake the feeling that something about her was off. Not in the sense of Blackwall, he was sensitive enough to know when it was the taint, a lingering feeling in the back of his mind that spread unease the longer he was with the burly man. With the Commander though, it let his hair stand all over his body and something in him begged him to hide.  
Now, Varric was not a coward, nor was he inexperienced, but foremost, he was a dwarf, and he should not have been, by any means, as affected by whatever it was, that surrounded her. When she had suddenly and very unexpectedly stood in their courtyard, entirely unbothered and unnoticed by the guards on the gate, it was him who had called out to her.  
It was not that she did not smile, it was rather that it had no warmth, no sense of greeting. He thinks, had he painted her, it might have been objectively pretty, yet as he looked at her, he felt small, smaller than usual, which was even less for a dwarf.

Solas didn’t like the Commander. She had taken one long look at him and when he looked back, he wasn’t sure what looked at him anymore, he felt it pierce his skin and echo in his being, his magical core, gripping him tight, until she suddenly looked away and he could breathe again. He had seen a lot during his countless years, he knew how the presence of the tainted wardens felt, human, elvhen, dwarf, all with a bit of a rotten twist, but this was none of it.  
It made him keep his distance as much as he could, watching her from afar, avoiding eye contact, yet even then he could not shake the feeling of being watched, of being known. Not when the air around her seemed thicker, heavier, the world gravitate towards her und the void slumbering underneath her skin, swallowing just a bit more light than it should. He sought the spirits of wisdom that night in the fade, asking it for what this darkness was in this elvhen woman, bearing the signs of the stag.  
He summoned her shape, it looked so ordinary, scars and lines of worry and hardship all over her, lines of her vallaslin faded. He stopped short of her form, studying her face. Vallaslin was not made to fade, yet it was gone in some places, breaking the image of the antlers on her forehead in pieces. It was easy to take it for healed over scars, bits and slashes that had cut it, magic renewed the skin but not the vallaslin, but he knew, that was not how it worked.  
The sign may show on the skin, but it was written in the core of their being. How did it not hold on then? Perhaps it had been badly applied? Perhaps it had never been a bond but merely a tattoo as the dwarves took them?  
He tilted her head to look up, see it more closely, study her alien eyes - she looked straight at him.  
Her presence surging into the fade, washing over him in a wave of darkness, peeling away his elvhen coat, leaving him on paws, many eyes staring back at her.  
She smiled. Vanished.  
Solas reformed his shape, feeling breathless when he knew he shouldn’t need to breathe. His skin tingled from whatever it was that had poured out of her, taken him by surprise, that he decided to not enter the fade again while she was around. 

The Bull was curious, he had heard of the Sten, the one Qunari that was in the wardens Group during the blight, a formidable fighter and leader. He had not met him, as he was not meant for travelling in these lands, but the commander has been quite a mystery to them, to him. Something about her made him feel like there was more, like she moved in a body so small yet it felt like something bigger moved in her place, suffocating them in small rooms.  
He had tried to sneak up on her once when she stood on the battlements, talking with the inquisitor who was obviously deep in conversation. He had been a long way from them when she put her hands behind her back, a casual manner for those not knowing what to look for, but he knew the sign her hands formed and knew she had spotted him. How exactly, he couldn’t fathom.  
What he did realize though, was how uncomfortable her presence made most of the others, even the merry dwarf was subdued, looked at her sceptically from time to time. Cullen looked stressed when she was around, the only one showing open admiration and practically hanging from her lips seemed to be the usually quiet Blackwall.  
The Bull chuckled to himself at that, she was close to a living legend among his order, even if he was not properly part of it. Being the ever collecting analyst he was, he hollered across the courtyard to her, to join him in training.  
The guards currently with him looked frightened yet strangely excited, not everyday one gets to see a hero like her in action. Quietly she laid down her swordbelt, only grabbing one of the training daggers that laid out on a bench.  
“Come on, commander, no need to worry about a little blood! I’m tough!” He joked loudly, waiting for her reaction. She rolled her eyes, a habit so casual and harmless compared to her words.  
“I know exactly how thick qunari skin is.”  
He didn’t falter in his movements, but he filed that information carefully away for later, shrugging he picked up another dagger, which looked more like a toothpick in his giant hands. She moved easily, even a kid could see that she had spent far than enough time in battle for one lifetime.  
He remembers the wardens training, the elves movement and calculated, anticipated, and she did exactly what he thought she would, and then - not. She was too fast, too off, and when his knees snapped and his head hit the sand, he realized, it had been a trick.  
“And that is how one makes a Ben-Hassrath fall. They will think and calculate and it will give you nothing to make an entirely different move. The secret is to do it just a little different, know which parts of your movement can be adjusted, know which of theirs can’t.” She declared to the surrounding guards, then turning and offering the Iron Bull a hand. “Itwasaam. Come, try it again.“  
“Vashedan, no.” he laughs, not entirely surprised she speaks qunlat with minimal accent. “There is only one kind of situation where I want to lie like that, and that does neither involve sand, nor clothes.”  
“But spectators? How bold.” She quips and the Iron Bull lets out a booming laugh, before he says in qunlat, “Careful Commander, one may think you have humour.” to which she winks before she picks up her sword belt and departs. 

When they ran through the fade, Lavellan upfront, bare feet making splatching noises on the strangely wet floor, Hawke hot on her heels, Lyna covering them from behind, the last thing they had needed was the giant spider-like creature coming from above, far too many eyes on them, pinchers dripping, blocking the only exit they had.  
“How do we get by?” Hawke shouted, sword raised.  
“Go.” Lyna commanded. “I’ll cover you.”  
“What? No!” Lavellan shouted back.  
“You were right, the wardens caused this mess. I will clean it up.” Lyna held her ground, eyes on the creature, flicking back and forth.  
“You must help them rebuild! Help them, that is your job! Corypheus is mine.” Hawke protested, trying to get her footing right, posing as confident as she could, Lavellan looking almost helplessly between them.  
“Leave.” She said again, all trouble gone from her voice, and Hawke felt the hair on her arms stand up, as a chill spread around them.  
“Banal nadas, Lethallin. Dareth shiral.” She said to Lavellan, who swallowed and nodded, face grim, followed by more elvhen that Hawke did, despite her time with Merril and Fenris, did not understand.  
“I will not disappoint.” Lavellan answered to that and took a step back, urging Hawke to follow.  
“Are you sure?” Hawke took a last look at the Commander, and found her smiling, dark fog growing behind her.  
“I did this once, I will do it again.” then her eyes were on the creature and something changed in her eyes, that Hawke had no more time to inspect, and it was not just the threat or the creature or Lavellans Hand pulling her along, but a deep, gut wrenching sense of wrongness that urged her to sprint faster, something heavy and consuming, lapping at her very being with dark arms. 

She did not dare looking back, the last thing she heard before tumbling through the portal was an absolutely inhuman scream, that went right through her bones. 

The rift spit them out, Hawke hurling through the air, seeing Lavellan land much softer, more balanced. She raised her hand, green light crackling, then pulling her fist close, creating a wave of energy that knocked back the guards and the remaining creatures, the least bending and screaming as green lightning danced over their skin. They fell apart and the soldiers broke out cheering.  
“She was right!” Hawke spoke up as Lavellan stood on top of the empore, “Without the nightmare to control them, the mages are free and Corypheus loses his demon army. Though as far as they are concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the maker.” She said, deep down knowing little of what they had left behind had to do with the maker.  
Lavellan leveled her with a look, expressing discontent, but mouth set in a grim line as she nodded.  
A soldier came running, shouting for Lavellan. “Inquisitor! The archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared! The Venatori Magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might want to deal with him yourself. As for the wardens, those who weren’t corrupted helped us fight the demons.”  
A heavy armored warden comes to rest beside him, bowing. “We stand ready to make up for Clarels … tragic mistake.” the hesitated, “Where is the Commander?”  
Lavellan raised her chin high, “The Commander remained in the fade to buy us time.” She said, as Hawke wanted to say that she died. “If not for her, you’d be dead - or slaves to a servant of the blight. And you dared repay her by branding her a traitor.” The elvhen woman seethes, deep, long honed anger flashing in her eyes.  
“Inquisitor, we have noone left of any significant rank!” The warden protested, “What do we do now?”  
"You stay and do whatever you can to help. Contact the Keep in Ferelden, there are still senior wardens. Until then I am giving you all one final chance to prove it was not only Commander Mahariel alone, who made the wardens deserve the respect they owned. You are still vulnerable to Corypheus, and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.” The Inquisitors voice is strong, not showing grief over the hero they had left behind.  
She hears Solas exhale in discontent, just as Cole speaks up. “But they hurt people.”  
Lavellan shakes her head and Hawke thinks of her sister.  
“While they do that, I’ll inform the wardens at Weißhaupt about what’s happened. Best they not get caught off guard.” And see how her sister is fairing.  
“Thank you, your worship.” The warden answers, “We will not fail you.” before he leaves and Lavellan turns to Hawke. 

The woman holds the elfs eye for a moment, trying to convey her hardship and loss and support, and Lavellan shakes her head softly. Hawke feels at loss for meaningful words. What else is there to say that she doesn’t know?  
“You’ve got a lot more blood ahead of you. Fight well…” She trails off and almost like an afterthought she adds, “And take care of Varric for me.” no longer sure whether Varric takes care of Lavellan like he did for her, or how much more is buried underneath that elven form. There was an understanding between the strange Commander and Lavellan that Hawke could not quite grasp and despite her terrible impulse control, even she felt reluctant to dig. 

So she leaves, knowing she will find Fenris soon and after that, in a while, perhaps her sister. It is two months later, Hawke still in Weißhaupt, that message reaches her that the warden Commander reappeared. News ran through the city like wildfire, many of its residents part of or working for the order; a great rift tearing through the hall they once fought in, followed by an earthquake that woke up the whole base, then a scream, and tumbling through the rift came the Commander, bloodied and torn in many places, but alive and powerful.  
Hawke spends an afternoon wondering what she didn’t know, what may have happened, how one survives for that long in the fade, how much the Commander was still elvhen, until she feels a soft twinge in her belly just as the door opens and Fenris comes in. His eyes are soft, like so often these days when it’s just the two of them, and he looks at her swollen belly and marvels how soon it might just be three.


End file.
